20 Questions
by xGoldenSpiritx
Summary: "Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old."- Franz Kafka : A coming of age story between 8 best friends as they try to find their way through this maze of life.
1. Chapter 1: Youth

**Chapter 1: Youth**

_"__Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old."- Franz Kafka_

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><p>"20 questions," a small voice chanted from the oval-like form of friends.<p>

"No way. That's what we played last time," another one added on.

"And the last time, and the last time…"

A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd, as if it was a cheesy sitcom show. A single blush of cherry red traced the soft lining of the young boy's cheeks.

"I- It's a good game," he stuttered out again.

As if trying to salvage what little explanation you had left would somehow mend an understanding between the group? No, it never did. It never will.

A pale hand had approached the blushing boy and enveloped him into a warm hug.

"Aw, it's okay Trent. You don't have to be embarrassed," she chuckled. Her soft black bob had bounced in the process of an assuring nod. Dark innocent eyes sparkled to compliment the glare of the sun.

"I-I'm not," he squeaked.

His bold green gaze began to trace the chalk stained sidewalks of the elementary, begging for someone to change the subject just for a second- so that he could escape.

"Sure Green, sure." A new voice entered the dialogue in a sarcastic tone. High, squeaky and immature: a girl no doubt. Her raven colored hair was done up neatly into two pigtails. She reached over to her purple polka-dot backpack, refilling it with an assortment of crayons, markers and chalk- swiftly zipping it up shortly afterwards and slinging a single strap on her left shoulder.

"I have to go guys, my mom and I are going shopping before the mall closes down today."

The raven-haired girl locked eyes with the enthusiastic bob, and smiled.

"You're still going to be at my party, right Gwen?"

Gwen softly bit her lip and held her gaze within Heather's, a feeling of guilt coming about her.

"I haven't asked my mom yet," she sighed.

Heather's smile slowly faltered with every passing word. She could see her pale reflection in the other girl's eyes, and scolded herself for being so transparent.

"Oh, tell me when you do, okay?"

A hesitation. The slightest sign of doubt.

"Yeah, I'll make sure of it."

A smile.

"Hey Heather, why didn't you invite Trent and I to your party?" a rough agitated voice mutters.

_Beep. Beep._

Her mother pulls over to the side of the road, the same spot that she meets her daughter in everyday. A blue Honda, with exactly two scratches near the left headlight. That's how the kids would identify it. The 'Chang' mobile as Trent had once called it as a joke. But ever since, the name had just stuck.

She lets out a small smile to the blue-eyed boy.

"Because, Duncan, it's an all girls party. Meaning no boys aloud. Besides, don't think I forgot what happened when I invited you over for my last birthday."

_Beep._

"How was I supposed to know the crayons would melt _into _the cake?"

The pitch of his voice heightened dramatically, and the blush on his cheeks reddened against his complexion.

"Whatever," she let out a snort before standing up, brushing off her cotton skirt in the process.

The girl walks with confidence; anywhere she goes for that matter. Even when it was just entering her mother's car- Heather could cause a whole stampede to stop and stare.

Gwen watched her carefully as she entered the vehicle. Her mother embraced her for a moment and planted a soft kiss on her head. She quickly adverted her gaze downwards towards the concrete ground, pupils focusing on a singular red Crayola crayon.

Gwen let out a tiny gasp.

"Heather, you forgot your-"

But the two had already zoomed across the road.

"-crayon."

She focused on the red piece of wax before her. Heather had never left her stuff behind- anywhere. She was never the forgetful type, especially with her favorite colored crayon. She found that there was something embarrassing about having to turn back, and explain herself for her error. 'Never look back' she would say, 'ever.'

"Let me see that," the rough voice demanded again, snatching the crayon from Gwen's petite hands.

"Duncan! Give that back. " she squealed.

The blue-eyed boy chuckled at the strain in her voice.

"And what if I don't, sunshine?"

Gwen's skin began to crawl. Sunshine. She hated that name.

"Come on, Duncan. Just give it back," Trent shyly murmured.

"It's Heather's," Gwen added on, "She needs it."

"Oh yeah?" A smirk played upon his lips.

"If she really needs it so much, why did she leave it here?"

Gwen ferociously blushed at his words.

"It was just a mistake. Of course she needs it. She- she'll always need it."

Gwen quickly snatched the crayon from his grip and stuffed it into her coat pocket.

"Jerk," she mumbled, crossing her arms in the process.

There was a deep silence between the three children. Gwen locked her eyes on the swing set in the back, while Duncan drilled both eyes through the back of her head. Trent's head darted between the two, wondering who would make the next attack.

"Oh come on Gwen, you know I was just playin' right?" Duncan whispered.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She knew, he knew, even Trent knew that Gwen could never stay mad at Duncan even for a measly five minutes. In fact, she could never stay mad at any one of her three close friends. Because what really is anger? A feeling of annoyance... displeasure... hostility? They would have plenty of time to be angry when they got older. But for now? It wasn't worth it.

"Yeah…" she uttered, her eyes still locked on a swaying yellow swing.

"Good."

_Click. Click. Click._

The violent sound had alerted the trio to turn in the direction of the sound. Heels. More specifically Mrs. Carter's heels.

All three watched the woman intensely as she made her way over to the group. Her light blonde hair complimented the setting sun and her bright blue eyes had bore holes in the hearts of many before.

"Duncan, are you ready to go?"

Duncan offers a subtle nod to his mother and packs up his black and green-checkered backpack. He stands up and carries his weight on a pair of stubby legs, going to face his mom.

She whispers something into his ear as she loving ruffles his hair. A single nod was given in response before the pair turns to the other two kids on the concrete.

"You know, it's getting kind of late. Do you need a ride home Trent?"

The boy's eyes widen at the question.

"No thank you. My dad just got off late from work. He's on his way."

Mrs. Carter gave him a warm smile.

"How about you Gwen?"

The world around her froze for a split millisecond and a sense of deja vu corrupted her state of mind.

"Uh, no thank you. My mom will be here soon."

Mrs. Carter's smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, attempting to look more genuine but only ended up looking more and more fake by the second.

She didn't even know why she bothered. Sometimes Trent would accept the occasional offer, but Gwen? No. There was wall built around her. She was always the first to come, and the last to leave. Duncan's mom could never understand her. Usually her son's friends would open up to her, come over, maybe have a cookie or two. But her? No matter how much the woman had tried, she wouldn't budge an inch.

"Ok kids. Well, have a nice day. Duncan say bye to your friends."

"See you tomorrow," he uttered. His worn out converse spun on around on its platforms and turned away with his mother's black heels.

Of course. He was never good at goodbyes.

Another awkward silence evaded the atmosphere, and the two remaining children were left alone.

"Umm," The boy blushed. "Did you pick a partner for Ms. Baker's project yet?"

Silence.

"Gwen?"

"Oh, sorry," she nervously mumbled, regaining herself from her thoughts. Her knees had become black from kneeling on the bare concrete. Brushing off the dust, the girl crossed her small legs in front of him in a criss-cross-applesauce position.

"Hey, did you still want to play 20 questions?" she urged on.

Trent's bright green eyes brightened at her suggestion. The boy nodded his head vigorously.

"Ok, I think it was your turn."

She smiles.

"Alright, hm…. I have one."

"Ok," she smiles back, and contently closes her eyes thinking of her object.

"Question #1…"

_Beep._

Gwen's eyes shoot open in shock, appalled by what had just come out of the seven-year old's mouth.

"W-what?" a blush began to form on her cheeks.

"I didn't say anything," Trent replied.

_Beep._

Trent's dad. He would always wait for him at the intersection of Marcy St. and Hooper Ave. Right there at the local vandalized stop sign.

"I, um, have to go Gwen."

Gwen, still in shock, gave a shy smile to the boy as the sun began to set behind her frame. It was beautiful; at least to Gwen it was. There was always something refreshing and new about sunsets that interested her. 'The sun was going to sleep,' her mom would say. And something new was waking from its slumber. The moon. Of course Gwen knew that the moon was always there- faintly behind the clouds. In the background. It's an outsider, just like Gwen. When the sun set, it was the moon's time to shine. Beautiful. Even more beautiful than the sun. Yet it came out when no one was there to see it.

"Gwen?"

The girl took a few remaining seconds to stare at the natural satellite. She would have to draw it when she got home.

"Bye Trent," she said absorbing his green orbs.

"Um..." he started again.

"Yes?"

A tan hand shot to the back of his neck and he started to tap his left foot, vigorously as he always did when he was nervous.

"Are- Are you sure you don't need a ride? I mean, I can ask my dad, and it looks like it's about to rain, and-"

Cut off. Gwen shook her head.

"I told you, it's fine. My mom's coming."

She gave him a smile. A smile almost identical to the one that Mrs. Carter had given to her. There was something in _those_ kinds of smiles. It's is the kind of smile you use when your grandma Angie buys you a big 'ol ugly sweater for Christmas, and you tell her that you love it- or better yet, it's is the kind of smile reserved for when the waiter comes around to your table and you tell him the food is great, when you know it couldn't have been any worse. It's is the smile of lies. The two both knew it. She knew that he knew, and he knew that she knew. But, they pretended to be oblivious little kids as they were expected to. They pretended not to know.

"Ok."

Trent had entered his father's car, and the two had drove down the street.

A single drop of rain. Looks like the moon would have to be drawn another day.

Gwen collected her books off of the concrete floor, and stuffed them messily into her midnight blue backpack. Hopefully if it wasn't too much of a bother, her mother could read her 'The Little Engine that Could.'

The black-bobbed girl plucked the book-bag off of the ground and checked her surroundings, making sure that none of the teachers or even Trent for that matter decided to linger around.

Two violent drops of rain pounded down on her head, and more soon followed.

Sighing, the girl pulled up her black hood of her coat. After checking that her bag was zipped up, she was off down the road with each step, lugging a single red crayon in her pocket for safe keeping.

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><p>"What do you think honey?"<p>

Heather was never the expert at expressing how she felt.

The dress was big, loud and pink. The very presence of it almost distracted her from the question at hand. What did she think? She would say that it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen in her life, of course. At least that's what her mother wanted to hear. But, no. What did she _really_ think?

"It's... I love it mom."

Her mother's smile brightened at her daughter's words.

"Oh I just knew it. I told your father that the dress was totally you. But, no... he didn't listen."

Mrs. Chang let out a heavy string of laughter. Heather smiled, maybe not directly to her, but to the dress. This was it. If she could just put this on, wear a smile for the day, and act like her birthday actually meant something- she'd be set. Her mother would be happy, just as she deserved to be.

"Is there a problem baby?"

Mrs. Chang's smile disappeared. No, she had to put it back on. The older woman squatted down to the younger one's level to meet her eye to eye. Oh, it was like looking in the mirror. Heather was the spitting image of her mother: the soft raven-colored hair, the bold grey eyes, the plump ruby red lips. Heather wouldn't even be surprised that if when she got older, she would grow up to look exactly like her. She was beautiful, poised, confident. Who wouldn't want to be her?

"No, no, I love the dress," Heather said.

Mrs. Chang's smile returned to her flattering features. There it is again.

"Great. I think the pink really brings out your gorgeous eyes," her mother complimented.

As the woman stood up once again, Heather couldn't help but have that reoccurring thought that she had smelt a little bit of alcohol on her breath. She had had that feeling another time last week, when Heather fell on her knee, and her mother was talking to her as she bandaged the wound.

'You have to be more careful,' she had said, and a foul taste had entered her mouth. A taste so familiar that she tasted before at one of her parents' adult parties, when she had accidentally picked up a cup so innocently mistaken for grape juice.

"Ok, so all we have to do now is ring it up and then we're off. Change back into your clothes while mommy goes to buy your pretty dress for you."

Her mother planted a kiss on her cheek. Heather felt a shiver pass down her spine, as her mother's kisses had currently began to make her feel less comforted. Nowadays all she's been feeling is disgust, and she didn't like it.

"Mom," Heather mumbled.

The woman already had one foot out the changing room door.

"Yes sweetie?"

"I love you."

Their eyes met in a spontaneous burst of compassion, and Heather could see that hopeful glimmer in her mother's eyes.

"I love you too."

Heather was left to quickly change back into her clothes: a pleated dark purple skirt, with a plain white V-neck under a purple cardigan.

She stopped to look at herself in the bright long mirror that the changing rooms had provided and sighed.

Somehow, she didn't like what she saw. She felt uncomfortable, and unwelcome when she looked at herself in the mirror. It's as if something was intentionally dissatisfying her to the point that she would feel this way.

Tomorrow was her big party. She was finally turning seven, being the youngest in her small group of friends. As Duncan had teased her about before, she would no longer be known as the short-stack on the pancake menu anymore. She was older, more mature, and she could finally rub it in his face tomorrow... if she had invited him to the party.

The truth is, the only people that she really wanted to come were Trent, Duncan, and Gwen. But since her mother was in charge of the guest list this year, she found that it was appropriate to only invite her girl friends. Mrs. Change found it unusual that Heather had chosen to spend so much time, as she had with those two boys. Girls her age were supposed to think all boys had some kind of disease or something of the sort. But Heather was content to call them her friends.

Mrs. Chang would hear the other mothers talking about Heather, and how different she was from the others. They said only ugly girls would make boys as friends, because they were the only ones who would accept them. But no, Heather was pretty- beautiful at that. So why would she act this way?

Mrs. Chang had allowed her 'unusual friend' Gwen to come, but Heather wasn't even too sure that _she_ wanted to come. Gwen had been acting different; not only to her but to everyone: Trent, Duncan, the teachers. But Heather failed to question it.

If Gwen wasn't there then the only people who would come to her party were her mom and dad's fake friends who acted like they really cared for Heather's age- and distant cousins, aunts, and uncles of which she never even met before.

She would probably be cutting the cake alone this year. _Again._

"Heather Feather, are you ready to go?" She heard her father's voice call out to her from the depths of the store.

Sighing at the mirror once again, she let out a soft whimper, "Coming!" and escaped from the cruel judgement of her reflection.

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><p><strong>AN: So, as you can see I'm back from my long hiatus with a new story. To give you a little insight, this is basically going to be a coming of age story of a group of 8 friends. Four have already been introduced, and there are four more to come of whom will be periodically introduced as I see fit. This is definitely going to be something different from what I usually write (concept wise, pairing wise, etc.), and since I already have the whole story mapped out from beginning to end, I plan to update a lot more frequently than I have in the past. So... Review please if you enjoyed and/or want me to continue. And thank you for reading. :)**


	2. Chapter 2: Alone

**Chapter 2: Alone**

_"It's better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone." - Marilyn Monroe_

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><p>The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are. It's about being an individual, standing out from the crowd, going after your goals... but what if one of your goals was to aspire to be someone else? What if you were boring; shy and quiet? What if, when you first entered first grade, the teachers thought you were dumb for being you. You didn't say a word in class, and you didn't care to say a word to anyone that could possibly in a lifetime shut you out. What if people thought you were a freak, a weirdo, for purposely doodling outside of the lines?But, that's just who you were.<p>

Gwen felt that some people could spend their whole lives telling others what to do.

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><p>"Listen, all I'm saying is that I think you need to break out of your shell sweetie."<p>

The cramped cubicle like room echoed the sound of a single clock, ticking away the seconds of the fleeting sun.  
>Instead of responding, Gwen's large doe eyes scanned over the compressed space, taking in her surroundings. A specific array of eye-catching diplomas caught her line of vision, each hung proudly on the left side of the wall. 6... Gwen must have counted before she lost track and got caught up in the gold lining of it all.<p>

Although, she wasn't really sure of what each word meant, she remembers an old teacher of hers telling her that when an adult had the gold lining rectangles on their wall, they were an expert. At what? She hadn't gone on to explain, but an expert was someone to be respected of his craft; qualified as she put it.

"Gwen, ask yourself. What do _you_ really want? Do you want to be the girl that always hides behind the playground and doodles to herself? Do you want to be alone?"

Gwen's eyes widened at the bluntness of the question. What _did_ she want?

"I- I don't want to be alone."

She hated being alone. Maybe for a few moments, watching the stars and engulfed in her silly dreams, but deserted? Abandoned? No, she didn't want to be alone. She'd seen people that have been alone. She's heard stories about people that have been alone.

Her mom was alone. At least that's what she had told the young child. 'He left me alone, Gwen.' She would cry out. But if alone was to the exclusion of all others, then who was she? Was Gwen not enough to say that she wasn't alone? She probably needed someone better worth screaming to the world, 'I'm not alone! I'm not alone!' But Gwen's mom was definitely alone. And if that's what being alone looked like, she didn't want to be alone. _Ever._

"So why do you hide, Gwen? Why don't you play with the other kids during recess? I'm sure they'd love to hang out with you."

She simply criticized.

"I don't hide, I just want to be-"

"What? Alone?"

Gwen had froze in her plush seat, and furiously gripped the sides of her wheelie chair. She studied the woman's features intently with a hard cold glare. Her auburn colored hair was styled up into a messy bun, a single strand falling down into the woman's glasses which supported the sight of her clover green eyes. Her outfit was loose yet stern, taking upon a nice green blouse that bellowed in the air each time the noisy electric fan would whizz by in her direction. On her left wrist was a shiny silver watch, ticking away in coordination to the clock hanging at the side of the room. Traveling up her arm and to her hand was a nice, gold wedding ring. She knew that it was one by the way that her mom used to flaunt hers around to all of her girlfriends when she had just gotten married two years ago.

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><p>'"See Gwen, when you get married, your ring is going to go on this finger. You see? Left hand, right next to the pinky."'<p>

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><p>On her name plate, Gwen could clearly make out the letters, Mrs. Ronald - <strong>Guidance Counselor<strong>.

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><p>'When a girl gets married, she changes her last name to her husband's and people start calling her misses. That's why people call me Mrs. Matthews now. Gwen clutched her mother's left hand tightly. "So what does that make me?" she asked. "That makes you super, duper, wonderful Gwen." Her mother planted a kiss softly upon her head as the two continued their walk home.'<p>

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><p>Tears. Gwen violently slammed her eyes shut, in utter annoyance with the lady for digging into her life. How would it feel if she was the one being interrogated? Then they could truly see which one of them was <em>really<em> alone.

"Gwen, dear? Did I upset you?"

The woman reached out a tan hand in her direction, and Gwen violently slapped it away. She couldn't cry in front of her. At least not like this.

"Y-You said you wanted me to be myself. W-why are you trying to change me?" she stuttered, trying to choke down the tears.

"Gwen, all I want for you is to become the best version of you that you can possibly be."

A single droplet rolled down her left cheek.

"Well, this is the best it's ever going to get. Sorry to disappoint you, _Mrs. Ronald_."

Without another word, Gwen quickly lifted her backpack from off the ground and rushed out of the office.

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><p>"Gwen honey! Dinner is ready," she heard a voice call out from the kitchen.<p>

She had just finished sketching the outline of the droplets from the pouring rain. Her damp hair ran to slightly below her shoulders and a soaked book-bag sat at the corner of the living room.

"Gwen!"

Her mother had entered the room, and gasped at the sight. Her daughter was draped around the newly furnished couch, gazing through the triple window unit and out at the hideously growing storm.

"Honey, I told you not to go on the couch. Your hair is still dripping wet from when you walked home from school today!"

The mother took her little one into her bosom and relocated her on her play-mat, away from the window and any water non-resistant material.

"I'm sorry," a deep blush complimented her pale skin, "I just wanted to watch the rain."

Mrs. Matthews cracked a sincere smile at the girl and chuckled at the site of her dripping bob.

"Oh, what are we going to do with you Gwen? I had made sure to pack your umbrella in your bag this morning when you went to school. Did you even check?"

"I did. And I used it, but as I was walking, I decided I didn't want to hide anymore."

Gwen's mother crossed her arms over the pink suit.

"So you closed your umbrella and ran the rest of the way home?"

Gwen smiled at her mother, giving her a confident nod. Mrs. Matthews chuckled at her daughter, reaching out her arms to lift her off the ground.

"What _are_ we going to do with you little duck?"

"Quack," was her only response.

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><p>Gwen and her mother took their regular seats at the dinner table. The eldest of course, took the one all the way at the far right end, and Gwen took the immediate seat to her left. Her little brother Charlie, sat in his green booster seat and dug his gums into a serving of mashed potatoes.<p>

The remaining two had wasted no time, feasting on their servings of grilled chicken and rice that the older woman had prepared.

Charlie giggled as he smushed his food covered hands into his mother's face.

"Looks likes Charlie's at his experimenting with food stage. That was fast." She reached for a pale tablecloth.

"You hadn't reached that stage until you were at least 11 months Gwen. I remember the first time you flung a spoon of apple sauce across the kitchen. It had hit your dad right in the head, and he had walked around the house like that for another half hour before he realized what was up."

She let out a soft, reminiscent laugh. Gwen smiled to her plate as she cut off a piece of the chicken with her dinner knife.

Things always did get awkward whenever someone had brought up dad. It was an uncomfortable silence, and most of the time, one of them would quickly veer away and start another subject. But not this time. The couple allowed the evading silence to choke them.

"So mom," Gwen flicked her fork around the rice, "Heather is having her birthday party tomorrow."

Mrs. Matthews' eyes lightened at the news.

"Oh! That's great for her! How old is she turning? Eight?"

"Seven." Gwen murmured.

"Oh."

Another awkward silence.

"So, she invited me to come."

"What time would this party be?"

Gwen fidgeted in her seat.

"It- It starts at 12 pm. and it ends at 3 pm. Please can I go, it would mean a lot to Heath-" she babbled.

"No."

"But-"

"No."

Gwen's eyes shot shyly from her plate, and up to study her mother's face. Her expression was pale and unreadable. She continued to cut her meat as if nothing had happened; as if she didn't just break her daughter's heart.

"Why not?"

The older woman sighed.

"Because Gwen, you may not have noticed it, but ever since you were 1 year old, we've had this tradition in our house. Every single Saturday at 1:00 p.m. precisely, we have our family lunch. And if you're not there, it's not so much of a family lunch now is it?"

"Mom, dad started that tradition 6 years ago. We don't have to keep doing it. And it's just one Saturday. I promise I'll be here for the one next week."

She stared at her mother through a tightening beacon of hope.

"No, It's not just one Saturday. One Saturday, turns to two, and two turns to three, and then three turns to never! I work hard everyday to keep this household together and it's going to stay that way. You'll have to find another day to celebrate with Heather. I'll take you to get something nice for her on Sunday."

Gwen's cheeks reddened out of embarrassment.

"But mom. You don't understand. This is really important to Heather. If I'm not there, she'll be crushed."

"No Gwen! _You_ don't understand!"

The slamming of silverware echoed around the house, and Gwen shut her eyes tight from the impact of the shock, only reopening to see the brunette violently clutching a fork and a knife in either hand. Her brown eyes darkened and her usual smile was replaced with a scowl.

"Mom-" Gwen whispered.

"Not. another. word." She threatened.

A tear slipped out of Gwen's right eye and rolled down her glossy cheeks.

"You- You're being stupid!"

"The only one being stupid here is you! Don't you ever talk to me that way! The answer is no, and that's final. Now go upstairs to your room, so you can finish your supper somewhere that I don't have to look at you."

She was so upset, Gwen could always visibly see steam coming out of her ears.

Charlie paused from playing with his mash potatoes and stared at his older sister with resembling chocolate brown eyes.

She quickly rubbed her long sweater sleeve across her cheek, took her plate of food and ran upstairs without a single thought of reconsideration.

She slammed the door shut to her room, turned off the lights and began to cry.

Maybe she was just confused and this whole thing would blow over by morning.

Or maybe she was just alone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Please review! It doesn't have to be anything in depth, it could be short, simple... however you please. But how will I know if you liked it, if you don't tell me? Thank you reading. Till next time! :3**


	3. Chapter 3: Promise

**Chapter 3: Promise**

_"Sometimes people don't understand the promises they're making when they make them." – John Green_

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><p>Promises are like babies: easy to make, hard to deliver. Trent surely knew that. He had made promises all the time. He remembers this one day in kindergarten, he promised Susy McGarett that he would help her build a mud sand castle on the playground. Another time, he had promised Heather to return her brand new pack of markers when she left them on her desk at school. He had even promised Gwen his silence...<p>

* * *

><p>"C'mon Green, you're going to have to be a lot faster than that if you want to catch me!"<p>

It was a rather lazy Friday afternoon when he had met her. The school day had ended rather abruptly, sometime around 2:45 he remembered. Only him, Duncan and maybe two other girls were left to be picked up by their parents and Duncan had oh-so strategically dragged him into a third consecutive game of tag.

"I'm trying," he called out as the other boy whizzed around the turf-like furnishing.

Why Duncan suddenly possessed so much energy in the afternoon was beyond him. He had already been off climbing the red swirly side from the bottom up, laughing like a red-bull induced maniac. Trent let out a heavy sigh, placing two tan hands on his lap as his stance hunched over the ground.

"Tired already?" Duncan teased from the top of the slide, "Ready to give up?"

And let him win? No, Trent wouldn't do it.

"Ghhrr," the green-eyed boy let out a battle cry, rushing over to the monstrous plastic play thing.

Almost to the stairs, Duncan chuckled manically and slid down the contraption just to run over to the other far end of the playground.

Okay, he was tired. Exhausted at that. Was catching his friend really worth the trouble? Couldn't he just give up? He simply would, if he didn't already know that Duncan would mock him for days if he did.

It was sort of a guy thing: always fighting for dominance, bragging rights, whatever they could get their hands on to prove that they were the best. He guessed that with girls it was sort of different. Trent would always see when a group of girls would cause a ruckus in class, they would forget it ever happened by at most the next day. Maybe girls just didn't have to fight for that position of respect. He guessed that with girls, it just didn't matter. But with guys, it was everything, no matter how little the thing may be: who could color faster, who could burp out their ABC's faster... this guy in his class, Owen, would always win that one.

But Trent was born a guy. And that meant that he was automatically entered as a participant in this non-existant race that everyone just pretended was important. So what if he wasn't the fastest, the most artistic, the smartest; he was him, and that was good enough.

He needed someway to get away from Duncan. Yes, he was his best friend, but sometimes Trent just couldn't take his undying passion of competition. He needed to hide.

The boy's pupils desperately scanned the playground for a scapegoat, to get him out of this situation.

The swing set... no. He would definitely find him there. Maybe the monkey bars... no. What would he do with those, swing in clear site? That was stupid. But, how about... Edgar? Yes. He was perfect.

Edgar was the plastic green dinosaur, in the middle of the Acorn Hills Elementary playground. Kids hated him. He was old, his color was stripping, and he had a smile that could scare the jeepers out of anyone under the age of 10. Not to mention that he still smelled like urine from that time Ezekiel Adams decided he was going to use his tail as a toilet. No one played on him during recess, no one even dared to go near him. But, Trent had a different perspective. He thought Edgar was special. He didn't fit in, he was unique, he was proud of his differences, creepy smile and all. He was like Trent.

There was a hole under Edgar's leg that served as a little cubby that children could play in, and at max fit 3 people, but no one has been in there in 2 years. At least, that's what the older kids said.

Looks like he was just about to break tradition. Trent scrambled on the turf like floors and over to Edgar's cubby. The first thing that evaded his senses was the urine stench aroma that seeped through the plastic crevices.

Ew.

Just a few more steps before he'd be out of sight.

3..2..1..

The coverage of the cubby hole blocked out any ray of sunlight trying to get in.

Trent let out a sigh of relief. He began to stretch out his short legs, until he heard a squeak of pain.

"Ow!"

The boy quickly drew back his legs and held them to his chest, a deep red blush on his face. He looked up to meet with a pair of dark eyes and a pale complexion. The girl's cheeks reddened with each passing second as a hand darted to cover her mouth and some sort of book clutched to her underarm.

"Oh, I- I am so sorry! I didn't know you were in here. I can leave if you-"

The pale girl relaxed, and slowly removed her hand from her mouth.

"No, y- you don't have to leave. I'm sorry I scared you."

Trent took a moment to really look at her.

Soft black bangs fell over her left eye, and a jaggedly cut bob went slightly past her shoulders. She had looked really familiar, maybe a kid from the other kindergarten class.

"What are you doing here?" he softly asked.

There was an awkward silence between the two.

"Hiding," was her single response.

"From what?"

The girl was hesitant. She didn't even know if she could trust him. I mean all she knew of him so far is that he had just rolled into her hiding place, and he has really nice eyes... although she would never admit that to his face. Whenever she met someone new, the first thing she would notice about the person are their eyes. It was sort of her thing. But, for some crazy reason, she decided to open up as if she'd known him her whole life.

"Everyone."

When Trent had cocked a confused eyebrow in her direction, she decided to further elaborate.

"I- I cut my hair."

Trent sat there and stared at her for a good minute or two, not really sure of what to say. Sure he could run off and continue his game of tag with Duncan, or he could sit by the bench until Duncan's mom came around to pick them up. No. He decided to stay with a girl that he just met about 3 minutes ago, and... he was content with that. His eyes followed her gaze to a pair of blue safety scissors settled next to her.

"What's wrong with that?" Trent whispered.

The girl's eyes widened in horror as if he had told her the zombie apocalypse was well on its way.

"What's wrong? Can't you see what's wrong?! I'm ugly! Everyone in school is going to make fun of me tomorrow when I walk to class, like this! No one's going to want to be my friend. My mommy is going to hate me." Her voice softened with each passing word.

She finally burst during the last sentence and just broke down, curling up into Trent's chest, and allowing the fabric to soak up her salty tears. Have you ever seen a five year old have a meltdown? It's one of the most heartbreaking things you may ever experience in your life.

Trent's hand awkwardly made its way to her back, patting it soothingly.

"It- It's okay. Everything is going to be okay."

"H-How do you know?" she sobbed.

Trent paused. How exactly did he know? That's right. He didn't know. He was just desperately searching for words to make the girl feel better. That's all.

"Because, you can trust me."

"Why?" she angrily questioned him.

"Because I'm your friend."

Stupid. That was a stupid response. Now she was going to think he was some crazy stalker dude, who's been watching her to no end.

But instead of screaming like he had expected her to do, she slowly raised her head from his chest and looked at him. No strings attached. She just stared at him as if she was trying to figure him out.

"Really?" She sniffed.

"Yeah," Trent offered a smile, "And, I think you look really pretty."

Her blush deepened to an apple red as her eyes traced the ground. A silence came over the pair.

"Do you actually think that? Be honest," she warned. She pointed a bony finger in his face.

"Yes, I do. You look really pretty."

Her eyes met his, and the finger, as well as her guard, lowered to the ground.

"B-But, I don't even know your name," she sniffed again.

"Trent," he blushed.

She blushed back, slightly backing away from him to the opposite side of the cubby, and tucking a stray piece of black hair behind her ear.

"Gwen."

"Huh?" he asked.

She smiled and let out a soft giggle.

"Gwen. My name is Gwen."

"Gwen," he repeated softly to himself.

"Trent, c-can you promise me something?"

He was taken aback by the suddenness of his own name. Duncan was really the only one that he talked to around that time, and he had his own little array of nicknames for everyone. In his case, it was either Elvis or Green, Duncan personally using the latter more often.

"Sure."

She played with the patterns on her plaid skirt.

"C-can you promise me not to tell anyone about this? About me cutting my hair? I- I'd rather them find out on their own."

"Of course," he said.

Gwen furiously shook her head back and forth.

"That's not enough. Will you... pinky promise?"

Gwen held out a fragile little pinky for him to interlock with.

He stared at the pinky for a split second before joining his with hers.

"I pinky promise."

Gwen smiled as she pulled her pinky back to lay against her side.

A pair of shoes crushed through the turf beside them, and from the cubby, Trent could see the outline of bright red converse right next to the entrance of where they were.

"Elvis? Did you give up yet? Where are you?"

Duncan. Trent blushed, looking back towards Gwen who had become preoccupied in her book.

"Um, I have to go."

Her eyes shot forward at the boy.

"W-will you be okay?"

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"I think I'll be alright."

Before Trent began to crawl out of the cubby, Gwen had grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"I just wanted to say thank you. You're really nice."

Trent blushed for the umpteenth time.

"Will I be able to see you again anytime soon?"

Trent pondered over the thought, tapping his chin.

"Tell you what, how about on Monday, I introduce you to my friend... and you can introduce me to one of yours."

She focused on the turf-ground, appalled at the offer.

"I don't think four people can fit in the cubby," she said.

Trent let out a hardy laugh.

"I meant, outside of the cubby? Like, at the swing set maybe?" he said as more of a question.

Gwen sighed. If there was ever a time to get out and meet new people like her mom had wanted her to do, it was now.

"The swing set it is."

The two offered warming smiles to each other, and signaled their departure with a single wave of the hand.

* * *

><p>Duncan's red converse remained stationary, as he scanned the playground looking for the aloof Trent.<p>

"Dangit, where could he have run off to now?"

"Tag!"

Something gripped his ankle fiercely, and the boy fell to the ground in a state of shock, shutting his eyes to brace the impact.

"Oof," he groaned, his face making contact with the floor.

As he pried his eyes open, he came face to face with a smirking Trent.

He sit up quickly.

"H-How did you do that?" He stared in awe.

Trent thought for a moment.

"A great magician never reveals his secrets?" he shrugged.

Duncan's frown gradually generated into a smile as he began to laugh.

"Well, I have to hand it to you Green. You won fair and square."

Duncan stood up to brush off his jeans, and a blue shirt.

Trent mockingly stood proudly in front of the other boy.

"Great. Now as victorious winner of this wondrous game of tag, I decree we go home."

Duncan smiled, "As you wish, oh great one."

The two burst into a fit of laughter, draping their arms around one another.

It must of been 30 seconds before their laughter wilted.

The two heard a beep of the horn, and a black toyota rolls up beside the playground entrance.

"Get in boys," Duncan's mom calls out from the passenger window.

Duncan and Trent went to collect their book bags which were laying against the steel fence circling the playpen.

"Hey, Duncan?" Trent paused.

"Yeah?" He paused from stuffing a book into a compartment.

"Can you promise me something?"

Duncan cocked an eyebrow.

"Like what?"

"Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll always be my friend?"

Duncan smirked.

"Well I don't call you my best friend for nothing, Green. Of course we'll always be friends."

"Yeah," Trent played with his fingers, "But you have to promise."

Duncan let out a snort.

"Fine," he dramatically dropped his book bag, placing his left hand on his heart and the other hand in an upwards position.

"I, Duncan Matthew Carter hereby promise to forever be the best companion of one Mr. Trent Blake Anderson."

Trent smiled as the two continued walking to Mrs. Carter's car. Before they got in, Trent took one last glance to the dinosaur cubby under Edgar's leg and thought about what he had promised Gwen.

"Hey, how do you feel about meeting me at the swing set on Monday?"

Duncan shut the door behind him and took a seat on the far right end of the back seats.

"Why the change? We always meet at the swirly slide."

"Just this once?" he pleaded.

"If that's what you want..." Duncan trailed.

Trent smiled to himself and took out his book from his green backpack. Their friendship was weird, but made perfect sense at the same time. And now, it was bound together by a promise. Trent looked over to Duncan's side of the seat, to see him passed out and obnoxiously snoring against the glass window. He rolled his eyes and chuckled at the sight, pulling himself to look through the other window as the cars appeared to zoom pass at a thousand miles per hour. People with good intentions make promises. People with good character _keep_ them. He just hoped ten years from now he could look back on this moment, at his friend, and say, 'thank you for keeping your promise.'

* * *

><p><strong>AN: If it wasn't already clear, that whole montage was Trent having a flashback to when he first met Gwen. Thank you so much for reading, and please review, favorite and follow! I like to respond to each review that I get, so I'm starting a new thing where each chapter I get reviews, I'm going to write my response to them at the end of the following chapter. So thank you, again. Until next time! :)**

**To:**

**IfJesusWasACriminalMastermind: **First of all, nice username. And second of all thank you so much! My goal is to give all central characters a few of their own chapters to make the story interesting. Hopefully, we'll be able to see how each person's story connects with one another's. And we'll _definitely_ get back to Heather and Gwen's friendship. Unfortunately the issue wasn't featured in this chapter, but it will be featured soon.

**FFraspberry: **Thank you so much for the compliment. Here's your update! I hope you enjoyed it. :3

**Ali6132: **Thank you, thank you. You're very kind. I'm glad you're enjoying it.


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